AUTHOR: anonymous

February 25th, 2014

Alfred had always thought it would happen when he was a teenager. When he was young and fit and had a little popularity. At the very least his name was known (though it was probably because he was one of the loudest students at the school, and overly friendly like an exuberant labrador.)

He had a few dates here and there, but when he hit a lull he told himself and everyone else he was focusing on school because his old man would kill him if he didn't get a scholarship into a good school! Which was true, his dad had high aspirations for him; but Alfred, master procrastinator, also could juggle school and sports without an issue. Surely he could've dated a little more often if he'd felt like it.

But he brushed it off and sailed through high school and on to college. There he again didn't have time to date, though now it was actually true. Suddenly he had to focus and strap down to get his work completed and he bemoaned those studying skills he'd never actually leaned. He also bemoaned the medical theaters he had to watch, feeling oddly squeamish through the first one, though he later adjusted and took a clinical interest in each one. (It was there he decided he couldn't handle the responsibility of being a surgeon.)

Even the odd fling over break, the flirting with the cute barista with the scruffy beard who worked the coffee shop didn't get him far in college. And now… Now, Alfred was having a slight mid-life crisis. There he was with a mildly successful practice as a family doctor, nothing world renowned but he was known as the main practitioner of the town, a nice little house fixed up and renovated how he liked, loans he could pay without too much hassle and already thirty-eight. The flaw in all this? He went home to his cat. Only his cat. His grumpy cat who sulked every night until he'd stolen his human's dinner from where he had been trying to eat on the couch in front of the TV. Yes, Alfred Jones was just as single as he'd been the day he'd graduated high school. And that happened to be painfully single.

Arthur had never had high expectations on when he would find a partner. Through secondary school they'd all be a lot of nitwits and he wouldn't put up with that. (And he was an awful hypocrite as well since everyone is a nitwit around that age. Himself included.) He'd went on a few dates here and there, gotten drunk and groped one or two of the more athletic young women in his year and earned himself a resounding slap on the cheek or kick in the shin, but it was never anything serious. (But oh, if those girls weren't tough. He'd quickly realized his mistakes and apologized quickly thereafter, though the glares were nearly as deadly as the girls' aim.)

University hadn't seen him much more sociable. He'd kept right on track with his studies, tried to adjust to life in the States, deciding that /they/ were all a lot of good for nothing's as well. (He didn't actually get to know many of them, but… Well!) It wasn't as if he was paying tuition so that he could date anyway, and he had more important things to worry about than the ridiculous fellow in the coffee house who attempted to flirt with him from time to time as Arthur tried to study. He looked like he needed sleep more than coffee anyway, and he made the resound decision to ignore him. Three weeks later Arthur noted that the barista now had taken on his problem and seemed pleased enough to return the flirting. Back to his studies then.

Graduation had seen him into a fairly successful job working in a museum, which seemed like perfection itself some days. Other days… His mood was a tad bitter. And that likely had to do with the fact that he found himself heading home every night to a modest home situated just as he liked it, debts that could be comfortably paid, and his fat cat who waltzed right up every night and boldly tried to steal his dinner from where he ate on the couch in front of the telly. He'd turned thirty-nine earlier that year and Arthur Kirkland was as single as the day he'd left for the United States. And that was pretty damn single.

When Alfred received the invitation in the mail his first reaction was to leave it sitting with his bills, not to be bothered until later in the week when he would sit down to pay them all. When this actually occurred (amidst getting his irritable cat off the kitchen table) Alfred didn't even consider. Three utility bills and a car payment later he reread the invite and reconsidered, getting his RSVP ready to send out with the payments. Why not go and see how everyone else was doing? He hadn't talked to quite a few of his classmates in awhile. So he decided he would go to his five year reunion.

Arthur had gone because he felt he ought to. If someone was putting the time and money into planning a reunion then he might as well attend. He spruced up a little after work the day before, his bag in the boot of the car, and then set him off to the hotel he'd gotten a room at for the event since it wasn't in his town, grumbling on the way there.

A paid bar. Who had a paid bar at an event like this? Arthur wasn't all that pleased but at least a little alcohol smoothed over some of the flaws of the evening. Like the fact he didn't remember most of these people. Had he really been that much of a recluse? She looked familiar… He was about to say hello whenever he remembered why. He'd spent one interesting night with her and her boyfriend of the time, something he would love to forget. Maybe he should've been more of a recluse. Sat at the bar, he at first ignored the laughing of the idiot who'd say down beside him. He was talking with a few of what Arthur was positive were old friends and he didn't want to be bothered by their lot. But it didn't seem to matter, because as his laughter died down and the friends dissipated to catch up with other people he was left with the idiot beside him.

"So, how's it going?" Shit, should he remember this guy? Alfred couldn't but he seemed so familiar! Maybe they'd shared a math class? Well, he could bluff his way through everyone else he didn't remember so surely this guy wouldn't be so much more difficult.

"Do I know you?"

Oh. Well that made things easier too. "I'm not sure," he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "You look awful familiar though. Alfred Jones ring any bells?"

"Er, no. But I'll admit, you look familiar too… Perhaps we passed in the hall or something. Arthur Kirkland."

A handshake and a couple of drinks later they were laughing and talking like old friends, having quickly relaxed. Neither could figure out why they seemed so familiar, but that was soon forgotten as Alfred let out an un dignified giggle at a story he was telling. "And then she- get this- she's freaking out and thinking he's having this huuuge allergic reaction or something. I went I swab his face and it was kool-aid! The kid needed a bath. That was it. This is the shit I get paid for!"

Arthur tried to hide his response to Alfred's infectious smile with an eye roll. "Are you even allowed to tell these kinds of things? What happened to doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Uuh… Well, I'm not giving any names so I should be safe," Alfred muttered, looking a bit embarrassed. Then he seemed like something struck him. "Hey! Do that again- make that face!"

Offended, Arthur scoffed at him. "What face?!"

"That one right there! Like you think I'm a doofus!"

"-Did you just say doofus?"

"That's it! That look- You're the guy from the coffee shop!"

Arthur looked at Alfred as if he'd lost his mind, trying to remember anyone from a coffee house. Then it hit him why the idiot seemed familiar and he was thankful the warm room and alcohol could be used as an excuse for any potential flush to his face. "You- You're the idiot that flir- pestered me so often? God, I wanted to strangle you and tell you to get some rest!"

Alfred laughed, that obnoxiously happy sound that it always was (and always had been, Arthur now realized.) "Flirted. You can say it, that's what it was. Oh no, you're gonna make me take a nap. How scary."

"Oh, hush! You looked half dead every time I saw you. If you were going to try and flirt you should've at least looked like you'd slept in the last week, otherwise I was worried I'd be left with the responsibility of your sorry arse asleep in the coffee house, and how the hell was I to know what to do with you?"

"Couldn't help it," Alfred continued, grinning boldly. "I thought you were cute, so I had to say something! Besides, you always stole my favorite seat and with the caffeine I couldn't fall asleep!"

Arthur acted as if he felt forced to spend time with someone with Alfred's intelligence level, but he knew the man wasn't an idiot. He also knew that they were both enjoying their conversation, which was what probably led to them catching a cab back to the hotel together after a few more drinks than planned on either end. But that was fine, they'd coincidentally gotten rooms in the same establishment and it gave them a chance to talk awhile longer.

The next morning Alfred woke with a small groan, his first reaction to pull whatever was under his arm closer to snuggle and go back to sleep. When he realized that what happened to be under his arm was a person- Well, needless to say he panicked. When he realized that he wasn't even in his own hotel room (his bags were missing and he sure as hell hadn't left any music playing) his panic grew worse. Carefully sitting up so as not to disturb his bed partner, Alfred took stock of the situation. He'd never been happier to find he was still wearing his boxers, the same for Arthur who was sprawled across the bed. Thank goodness. Nothing had actually happened.

With that taken care of he relaxed quickly and went to sort through the bathroom. A drink of water for himself, one left on the nightstand for Arthur, and Alfred ran into another dilemma. He wanted to get out of there before Arthur woke up irritated (because knowing this guy, he would, especially if affected by the drinks they'd had) but he also wanted to see him again… An idea struck him. It seemed like a great idea! He rummaged through the pockets of the pants he'd worn the night before and found a permanent marker, carefully stepping over to Arthur who was just as shirtless as he was. Sitting gently on the edge of the bed, Alfred tried to write out a message on Arthur's stomach, almost finished when someone grabbed his wrist. He froze.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Poor Arthur sounded like he'd been gargling gravel, and Alfred slowly turned to look at his face to find he didn't look any happier than someone might've been if they'd done just that. "Uhh…"

Of all the times to wake up to a shirtless man who obviously took care of himself (even if there was some pudge on his stomach… But Arthur didn't mind that either) that shirtless idiot had to be writing on him like some frat boy! Arthur's eyes narrowed as Alfred attempted to draw a smiley face beside the rest, as if that would fix the problem. "You do know that a university reunion doesn't actually mean you have to act like you're still at school?"

"Yeah- I just- I wanted to go but I couldn't find any paper…"

He took careful stock of the sheepish expression before Arthur actually tried to take a look at what was written. 'Coffee sometime? 555-555-5555 -Alf' and then a scribble from where Arthur had grabbed his hand. "Of all the… You're a right idiot. Did you even think to check the bedside table for paper? What even makes a person think that someone's stomach makes a better notepad than looking for paper?"

Alfred was feeling a little hopeful. Well, Arthur didn't hate him. He reached over, handing him the water and capping his marker. "Dunno… I'm just tired, I guess."

"Well you don't go writing on people's stomachs. But thank you," he muttered, quieting as he sipped his water, wishing away the pain in his head. Nothing too terrible, but enough to be a bother.

There was an awkward silence as they both just sat there, Alfred glancing over to Arthur and Arthur staunchly ignoring him for the moment as he stared at the writing, wondering how to get it off. "If you'd like to go to breakfast… Well, we both need to eat so there isn't any reason to eat alone, I suppose."

Alfred grinned and scrambled to get dressed.

Maybe they weren't going to be so lonely after all.